


Close Call

by mrsbertucci



Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbertucci/pseuds/mrsbertucci
Summary: An accident shakes up the Mercier family.





	Close Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LostinFic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/gifts).



> This is an idea that came to me while reading LostinFic's Perversions Delicates story. All of her works are amazing! Go check her out!
> 
> This story was beta'd by the fabulous TenRoseForeverandever! She is an amazing writer as well and should definitely be looked up!!

Close Call

Based off of LostinFic's _Perversions Delicates_

  

"Is this a good one, Mummy?" 

Betty looked over at her son who was proudly holding up an apple. She didn't have the heart to tell him the apple was too bruised. 

"Sure is. Go put it in the basket." 

He skipped over and did as he was told. Betty smiled, going back to picking apples. Jean-Francois would be home soon and she wanted to have a pie in the oven before then. 

Even though they were taking a holiday in Boutillon, her husband was always in demand and had to go over to the next town. Apparently, some high-ranking French officers needed to talk with Jean-Francois and they couldn't, or rather wouldn't, wait. 

Betty sighed. She missed him. They had only been married a short while but she fell more in love with him each day. She could never get enough of him and, by some miracle, he felt the same as her. It had taken some time, but Betty had finally gotten over her insecurities of not being good enough for Jean-Francois. 

The sound of Mark's voice brought her back to the apple orchard that sat on the outskirts of their land. "How 'bout them?" 

Betty looked to where Mark pointed and saw a branch heavy with apples. 

"Those look perfect, sweetheart. Bring me the stool, please." She readjusted the scarf she had tied in her hair while Mark brought over the step stool Maurice had left out there for her. 

"I'll get them, Mummy." Mark started to climb on the stool but Betty stopped him. 

"Let me do it. I need you to be my big strong helper and carry the apples to the basket. Will you do that for me?" 

"Yes, Mummy. 'M super strong!" 

She climbed the step stool, picked an apple, and tossed it to Mark. He made a big show of catching it, making Betty laugh. 

A pop echoed in the woods just as she raised her arm to grab another fruit. Betty cried out, feeling a sharp stinging pain in her right side, just below her breast.

She managed to press her hand to her side as she fell backwards from the stool. She hit the hard ground with a grunt, the air knocked from her lungs. 

Mark was crying, calling her name as she fought to catch her breath, but the burn in her side was making that very difficult. Wanting to know what was causing her pain, Betty looked down, gasping at the sight of blood coating her dress and hand. _What happened?_

"What do I do, Mummy? What do I do?" 

Betty pulled the scarf from her hair and pressed it to the wound, moaning at the pain it caused. "Marky, I need... I need you to be my big... strong hel...per a-an' go. Run to the house. Get Maurice or, or... or Marie. Can you... do... that?" 

Her little boy nodded, his tears dripping onto her face as he leaned down and kissed her. Betty gathered up all of her strength to give her son a reassuring smile. "I love you, Marky. Now hur-hurry along." 

"I love you, Mummy." 

Betty watched as Mark ran out of her sight. She wanted to try and sit up but any movement pulled at her side. Not wanting to waste too much of her energy, she decided to lie still. 

She lay there with her eyes closed, replaying the events over in her mind. The popping sound. What was it? It had sounded like a gunshot to her. Gunshot? 

Betty felt sleepy and her last conscious thought had been a prayer... a prayer that someone was home. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Jean-Francois turned his car down the gravel road that led to his home. He smiled at the site of its stone exterior and sped up, eager to wrap his wife up in his arms. 

_His_ _wife_. 

He was the happiest he'd ever been because of Betty. Never had he come across a woman as passionate and caring as her. She brought out the very best in him. He wanted to be a better man for Betty and Mark. He had finally felt closer to his stepson. It had taken a while due to the boy's close relationship with his father and Jean-Francois had understood. Donald was an excellent father to Mark and kept the boy frequently. Mark stayed with Betty and Jean-Francois mostly because, even Donald knew, Mark would have more opportunities living with the Colonel. 

As he parked, he noticed Maurice stockpiling firewood in preparation of the colder weather that was approaching. He got out of the vehicle and made his way over to the older man. 

"Make sure and take some wood for yourself, Maurice. Betty and Mark inside?" 

"No, sir. They're out in the apple orchard. Mrs. Mercier was wanting to make you a pie." 

Jean-Francois couldn't stop the schoolboy grin from spreading across his face. The smile quickly faded as he caught sight of Mark running towards the house, fear evident across his young features. Fear that quickly turned to slight relief when the boy caught sight of Jean-Francois. 

_Oh mon Dieu... Betty!_  

Jean-Francois took off at a full run towards Mark, Maurice not far behind him. He was in front of Mark in a heartbeat, gripping the boy's shoulders. "What is it, Mark?" 

"Something's wrong with Mummy! She's hurt! She's bleedin'!" 

Jean-Francois fought down bile. He needed to be strong for Mark and Betty, show no weakness. "Don't worry, son. I will help your mother. Go into the house with Marie. Maurice, call the hospital, tell them we will be coming." 

With those orders said, he took off towards the apple orchard, lungs burning as he ran as fast as he could to his love. Upon entering the orchard, his heart stopped. Betty was lying under a tree, pale and unconscious, blood on her dress and hands. Thankfully, she was breathing. 

"Betty!" He stumbled to her side and gently moved her hand to check the severity of her injury. Jean-Francois sucked in a sharp breath. He was looking at a type of wound he was, unfortunately, very familiar with. Betty had been shot. 

He was fearful when he didn't even get a moan of pain from his wife, but he was relieved to see that the wound wasn't deep and he could actually see the bullet at the bottom of the hole in her side. He stripped off his waistcoat and held pressure over the wound. Betty's hand must have fallen away when she had lost consciousness. 

" _Ma belle_ , I'm here. Everything will be alright." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before scooping her tiny frame in his arms and taking off towards the house. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Jean-Francois had not left Betty's side. As he had raced back to the house and headed for the car, Maurice had stopped him. The physician at the hospital had advised him not to bring Betty to the hospital due to an outbreak of influenza and he would make his way to Jean-Francois' home. 

He had carried Betty up to their room and, with Marie's assistance, had stripped Betty of her soiled clothes and had cleaned up the wound. The bleeding had slowed and for that he was grateful. He had covered his shivering wife with blankets while they had waited for the physician. 

Dr. Picard had arrived not long after and had been quick in his assessment. Jean-Francois had nearly wept with relief when Dr. Picard had announced that the bullet had not gone deep and had missed the major organs and arteries. The bullet had cracked a rib but, barring difficulty removing the foreign object and infection, Betty would recover. 

Now, he sat next to his wife, holding her small hand in his as Dr. Picard worked to remove the bullet. The physician had given her something for pain, but Jean-Francois knew that the medicine would not take away all of the discomfort she would feel. So, he tried to soothe her with calming words and mopping her brow with a cold, wet cloth. 

"Finished. Now, let me dress the wound and I'll write up instructions for aftercare and the medications." 

" _Merci_ , Dr. Picard." Jean-Francois placed butterfly kisses all along Betty's cheeks and jaw line. "You are going to be just fine, _ma belle_." 

A knock on the door startled him. He was about to tell whoever was knocking to go away when Marie poked her head through the crack. "Mr. Mercier, there is someone here to see you." 

"Tell them I am unavailable."

"Sir, I really think you should come down. I'll stay with Mrs. Mercier." 

Something in her tone caused him to relent and he waited until Marie took his place at Betty's side before heading downstairs. It had occurred to him that he still wore his blood stained white button down shirt. He only realized when he saw his guests, his neighbor and neighbor's son, flinch at the sight. 

The boy, Gabriel, was no older than fourteen and looked absolutely distraught. Hugo Bernard, the boy's father, looked grim as well. 

"Please forgive me, Hugo, but I have an emergent matter to attend to. Can this wait?" 

"I'm sorry, Jean-Francois, but this is important. Tell him, Gabriel." 

Gabriel shuffled forward, wringing his hat in his hands. "I-it's my fault Mrs. Mercier was hurt, sir." 

"Explain yourself." He ordered gruffly. 

"Father had been teaching me how to shoot and I wanted to practice before our next lesson. I didn't check to see if the gun was loaded. I'm so sorry, Mr. Mercier. I didn't mean to do it." 

Jean-Francois' anger thawed some as the young man broke down in tears and he walked over and took him by the shoulders. "Thank you for your honesty, Gabriel. Mrs. Mercier is going to be just fine." 

This made Gabriel weep harder in what Jean-Francois recognized as relief. He swore that he felt no ill will toward the Bernards and even offered to give Gabriel lessons himself. Jean-Francois rushed them out, wanting to get back to Betty. 

He was stripping out of his stained shirt as he made his way his way upstairs. He stopped short at the sight of Mark sitting up against his bedroom door, knees against his chest and tears flowing down his tiny cheeks. "Is Mummy okay?" 

Jean-Francois gathered Mark into his arms and held the boy close to his chest. "She's going to be just fine, son. You saved her. Did you know that?" 

"I did?" 

"Yes, you were so brave running to get help." 

Mark sniffed. "I wanted to be brave for Mummy... like you." 

He kissed his little boy's hair, unable to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat. 

"I love you, Da'," Mark whispered. 

"Oh, Marky." Jean-Francois' throat tightened. That was the first time Mark had called him dad. "I love you, too. Let's go in and see Mummy." 

He stood, still holding Mark in his arms and entered his bedroom, eager to be with his love. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Betty didn't know what was going on. She hadn't even opened her eyes yet, but she knew one thing... she was hurting. Why was she hurting? The last thing she remembered was picking apples with Mark. 

_OH!_  

Her eyes flew open and she looked wildly around until she met Jean-Francois' worried, loving gaze. Her eyes closed and she sighed in relief knowing her husband was by her side. 

" _Ma belle?_ Are you alright?" 

"Mmmmm. Hurts." She opened her eyes when she felt movement and watched as Jean-Francois reached for a bottle on his nightstand. "Wha' happened?" 

"You were shot, Betty. It was an accident. Hugo Bernard's son was practicing with a rifle that he believed to be unloaded. Open up." He held the spoon to her lips and tipped the bitter liquid into her mouth. "This should help ease the pain, _ma belle._ " 

"Poor kid." Betty's eyes fell closed again. "I'd like to talk to him." 

"When you are feeling better, we will." 

Suddenly her eyes shot open as she struggled to sit up. "Mark! He was with me! Where is he?" 

"Relax, _ma belle_ , relax. Mark is fine. He fell asleep next to you. I just put him to bed a little while ago." 

She lay back against the fresh sheets. "I'll never forget the look on his face before he went for help. I hated to put so much on his shoulders." 

"He was brilliant. He did just as you asked." He held Betty's hand to his lips and pressed kisses along her knuckles. "I was so scared. When I saw you on the ground I..." 

"Hey." She ran her free hand through his curls. "'M fine. Well, 'm gonna be. Do you have to go back to work?" 

"To hell with them. I will not leave your side. You, _ma belle_ , are stuck with me. I love you, Betty." 

"I love you. Will you hold me while I sleep?" 

"I do not plan to ever let you go."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
